


collection of good omens inserts

by foxtrot12



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 02:04:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 10,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19219363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxtrot12/pseuds/foxtrot12
Summary: x readers for crowley and aziraphale uwu feel free to req stuff, can't promise ill be able to write all of them tho





	1. earthly affections (aziraphale)

_ One week after the beginning of the rest of our lives. _

__ The first of the morning sunlight was peeking into the room, enough to gently stir you from your sleep.  Rolling onto your side, you wrapped your arms around the angel besides you, nuzzling your nose into the crook of his neck.  Aziraphale began to wake—he responded to your touch as affectionately as he always does, albeit slower than usual, due to the sleepy haze the two of you were in.  Neither of you needed sleep, but the human custom had grown on Aziraphale (as had most human customs) and, over time, his quirky affection of all things human eventually rubbed off on you.

“Good morning, darling,” he murmured, his hands encompassing yours.  He began to draw a circular motion on the back of your hand with his thumb as you pressed a chaste kiss to the underside of his jaw.  

“It is a good morning, isn’t it?” you questioned, resting your cheek against Aziraphale’s shoulder.  “It’s been just about a week since I left Heaven. You could say I  _ fell  _ for you.” 

“D-don’t say that!” Aziraphale nervously scolded.  While he didn’t consider Heaven his “side” anymore, the thought of causing another angel to “fall” was enough to ruffle his metaphorical (and literal, for that matter) feathers.  

“I’ll say it again and again,” you reaffirmed.  “I wouldn’t have left if it was not for you and no matter how long I was in Heaven, I have never felt the amount of love and comfort I feel now until I was on Earth.”  Aziraphale and your legs tangled together. “And I cannot tell how much of that is due to the brilliance of humanity and how much of that is simply just  _ you _ ,” you explained, “but I am certain you were a large influencer on my decision making.”  You let out a low, comforted sigh. “And I wouldn’t change it. All of Heaven and Hell could come knocking and I wouldn’t go back.”

“Oh, dear,” Aziraphale murmured.  He squeezed your hand momentarily.  “That is a very touching compliment, [y/n].  It makes me feel…  _ loved _ .”  Aziraphale laughed giddily to himself.  Love was such a raw, human concept. Angels, of course, felt love, but it was cleaner sort of love.  _  Human love  _ was much more energizing and fulfilling.  It was the kind of love that made your heart swell and your fingertips tingle.  “I quite enjoy feeling loved.”

“Me too,” you mumbled, closing your eyes again.  

Another thing humans were extraordinary at was being able to show their love with such minimal actions.  The way Aziraphale drew patterns on the back of your hand with his thumb, the way your legs bumped against each other, the way the two of you shifted ever so slightly, as if trying to get  _ even closer  _ together.  No words needed to be said for the warmth and love to lay over the pair of you like a weighted blanket.  

“If I may be so bold,” Aziraphale started, his voice barely audible, “I do suppose I am quite pleased you, well,  _ fell  _ for me,” he chuckled.  You responded to his confession with a long, loving kiss to his shoulder and it was all that needed to be said before you both drifted back into the depths of sleep.


	2. home (platonic aziraphale and crowley)

Marching down the crowded street, you did your best to ignore the furious bubbling pit of emotions that gurgled inside of you, practically  _ begging  _ to explode all at once.  The thought of letting all your emotions out at once sounded therapeutic (especially considering you did not want them anymore, the pesky little things), but you managed to keep things under control for the sake of those around you.  As much as you would like to scream to the Heavens about your problems, you had a slight inclination that the local passerby just trying to get to his day job would be rather unsettled by your outburst. 

So, for now, you let it build inside of you.  You were on your way to your favorite outlet, however: hoping they would be able to calm you down in a less explosive manner.

Shortly, the cozy little bookstore came into view.  You knew Aziraphale would be inside and although you didn’t know where Crowley was, he was almost always a few paces behind Aziraphale, so you figured if he was not at the bookstore now, he would show up sooner or later.  

Pushing the doors open, you were lucky enough to find them both there, seemingly arguing with each other in a chattering tone.  They both stopped when they saw you in the doorway, their faces falling.

“Something’s wrong,” Crowley stated.  He didn’t ask, no, it was a declaration.  He  _ knew _ .  

“Bad day.”  You sighed. “Bad week, actually.  I need a hug.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale exclaimed, setting down the book in his hands.  “I do believe that is my department,” he said, walking over to you with open arms.  

You practically fell into his embrace.  He made you feel warm and safe, and you weren’t sure if that was his own natural charm, or a bit of angelic magic that made him so, well,  _ heavenly _ .  

“My dear,” he cooed, rubbing circles into your back, “what could’ve happened to put you in such a state?” 

“Everything,” you mumbled into his chest.  “Am I a good person?” you asked.

Aziraphale and Crowley shared a look.  

“As good as a person can be,” Aziraphale said.  

“That’s what I thought,” you mumbled.  “Karma just must really hate me then,” you groaned pitifully.  “No matter what I do, I manage to get sucked into things that leave me feeling  _ awful  _ and  _ exhausted _ .”

“That’s life for you,” Crowley said, stepping besides you.  He wasn’t one for physical affection, or for much affection at all, really.  It ruins his meticulous persona of the rebel cool guy who couldn't care less.  Except, the problem with that was: he  _ did  _ care, a whole lot, actually.  “No good deed goes unpunished,” he continued.  “The fun part is you can do more than just be upset,” he said, a cheeky smile growing on his lips.  “Who’s the little bugger that did this to you, huh? Give me a list and I will handle them.”

“No, no, no,” Aziraphale scolded, giving the demon a disapproving sideways glance.  “Don’t listen to him. Don’t bring yourself down to the level of those that have made you feel this way.”  Aziraphale pulled away from your hug. “I have some cocoa in the other room, I know that always makes me feel better,” he said.  “I’ll be back in a jiffy.” The angel disappeared into a back room. 

“Sit,” Crowley said, taking a seat himself in one of Aziraphale’s chairs that was both absurdly extravagant while still maintaining the homely feel of the shop.  “What happened, specifically.”

You sat opposite from him.  “ _ People _ .  People suck, have you realized that?”

Crowley nodded.  “I’ve had 6,000 years to realize it.”

“Whether it be my personal or work life, I keep getting sucked into problems without actually meaning to.  And I feel if I say or do anything to defend myself, I will only receive more backlash.” You sprung up in your seat.  “Oh! To make matters worse, I cut my hand open the other morning trying to cut some bread!” You opened your hand out to show Crowley the bandage on your palm.  “Can you believe it, stupid bread!”

Crowley took ahold of your bandaged hand and studied it for a moment.  Dropping it suddenly, he fell back into his chair. “Seems fine to me.”

“What?”  You pulled your hand to your chest and noticed the regular stinging you had become accustomed to was gone.  “What did you do?” You unwrapped the bandages to reveal a perfect hand, free of any gash or scar. “Crowley…,” you cooed.  You knew how he was about situations such as these, and the appreciation you had for his simple gesture meant a lot. 

“Stop that,” he commanded.  “We don’t need you getting any more emotional,” he grumbled, refusing to look directly at you.

“Here we are,” Aziraphale announced, stepping back into the room with a tray of three steaming mugs.  “I see everyone is nice and comfortable,” he commented, setting the tray down on one of the tables. “Feeling better, are we?”  He looked between you and Crowley with a pleasant smile. He may or may not have been eavesdropping, but if anyone asks, he didn’t hear a thing: it isn’t very angelic of him to eavesdrop.  

“Greatly,” you said, grabbing one of the cups.  The warmth of the cup made your skin tingle. “Thank you, both.  I’m not sure how you do it, but you are both very good at making me feel better.” 

“Well, what good would we be if we didn’t try to cheer you up?” Aziraphale asked, sitting down with a cup himself.  

Crowley grunted in agreement.  “The offer of  _ stirring the pot  _ a little is still on the table.”  He smiled over his cup, thinking he was quite clever saying it while stirring his own drink.  

Aziraphale tutted him and took a drink, eyeing his companions with exasperated concern.  You couldn’t help but laugh as you had seemingly found your home tucked away in a quirky little bookshop with a pair of renegades.  


	3. new meetings (aziraphale)

"Why are we doing this again?" you groaned, your head resting against the window of Crowley's Bentley.  "I've been fine on my own since the Revolution."

"You know, there have been many revolutions, [y/n]."  Crowley, for once, kept his eyes on the road.

"Oh, you know which one, you brat."  Demons these days, always so sarcastic.

"I want you to meet him," Crowley said.  "Can't believe you wouldn't  _ want  _ to meet someone else after being stuck with  _ me  _ for so long," Crowley stated, a rather proud grin on his face as he recounted the numerous times he's been a thorn in your side (as well as your savior, but he always got flustered whenever that was brought up so it isn't talked about much these days).

"Alright," you sighed.  "But he won't like me." 

***

"Angel," you said, almost immediately upon setting eyes on Crowley's friend.  It was clear he wasn't like the other people dining in the small restaurant, just as it was clear Crowley was also different.  There was, however, a difference between Crowley and Aziraphale. It was hard to put your finger on it, but seeing them side by side, you could clearly make out their presence: one angel, one demon, and a whole lot of humans.

Aziraphale looked up in shock.  His eyes darted back and forth between you and Crowley, the look of confusion on his face growing by the second.  

"Now, now," Crowley scolded, sauntered over and pulling out a chair.  He sat down with his legs spread; you wondered if it'd be easier for him to carry around a great big glowing "give me attention!" sign with the way he acted.  "It's not  _ polite  _ to stare, Aziraphale."

"Right," Aziraphale nodded, smoothing down the front of his coat.  "Terribly sorry about that, it's just… I have never seen… You are not human?"

"Not fully," you said, taking a seat yourself.  "In the words of dear old Moses, I'm the offspring of the "sons of God and the daughters of man.""  You used your fingers as air quotes. "My daddy's a demon," you simplified, twirling your finger in fake enthusiasm.  

"Oh my," Aziraphale said, looking at Crowley once more.  And then he did something unexpected: he smiled. "That is quite brilliant; I have never actually met someone of your stature!  How exciting! When were you born, if I might ask? And, perhaps, a name I shall call you?" 

Aziraphale leaned over the table with the most pleasant smile you had ever seen and something inside your chest swelled.  Oh God: was that your  _ heart?  _  And the—what did the humans call it?   _ Butterflies in your stomach?   _ Frankly, you wished you were wholly demon: maybe then these infuriating human feelings would not be bothering you.  If your silly little human side was going to fold so easily, you decided to have a little fun with your demonic side.

"Late 70's," you said, resting your chin against your hand.  "1770's, to be more precise. Crowley found me fairly quickly, but it's a shame you've been hidden away from me for over 200 years.  As for my name, call me anything you like, but [y/n] will do." Your forked tongue slithered between your lips rather teasingly; it was one of the demonic traits that had followed from your fraternal side.

Crowley raised an eyebrow at your sudden personality change.  "I don't know, I've had 6,000 years to deal with him, you haven't missed much."

"Crowley," Aziraphale tutted before turning back to you.  "I agree, [y/n], I would have loved to meet you sooner!" 

Crowley groaned and leaned back in his chair.  This was actually going worse than he ever imagined: an awful flirt with a clueless angel.  

For the next few minutes until the drinks and menus arrived, Aziraphale continued to hound you with all the questions he could possibly muster, while you tried to slip in a few flirtatious one liners, all of which went unnoticed (by Aziraphale, anyhow.  Crowley noticed each and every one and made a point to sigh or groan in response).

"Do you see anything you like, [y/n]?" Aziraphale asked as the three of you mulled over `the menu.  "Crowley and I visit here so often we usually get the same thing, but I am feeling rather adventurous today."  He did his best to give his companions a mischievous smile. You and Crowley shared a look: you both knew he was ridiculous, but it was rather endearing seeing an angel try to fit in with the demons.  

"I see something I like, but it's not on the menu," you said, flipping through the little booklet in your hands.  Crowley was already groaning, knowing where this was headed. "Looks rather tasty, too." Crowley nearly fell out of his chair.  You wondered if all purebred demons were this dramatic or if it was just him.

"Oh dear, what is it?  Maybe next time we can go to a restaurant that serves it!" he exclaimed before giving Crowley a concerned glance.  "Crowley, are you feeling quite alright? You have seemed off this entire visit. Maybe we should finish this meal at home?" Aziraphale laid a concerned hand on Crowley's arm.  You noticed how Crowley seemed to perk up at the newfound attention he was receiving.

"No, I'm fine, truly, don't mind me," he grumbled, crossing his arms.  "You two are just  _ insufferable _ ." 

Aziraphale lightly hit Crowley's arm and shook his head.  He turned back to you. "Ignore him, I'm sure you've come to realize what he's like in the last 200 plus years.  Now, what was it that you said caught your eye?" 

Crowley gave you a look that screamed  _ please don't force me to watch this.   _ You promptly ignored him.  

"You," you said, your eyes scanning the menu for something a little more appropriate to eat.

"Oh, of cour—  _ wait."   _ Aziraphale's head shot up when he realized what you had said.  "M _ - _ me?" he stuttered, looking between you and Crowley. 

"Mmhmm," you hummed in response, still looking at the menu.  "The steak and garlic butter sounds tasty, though. Maybe we can come back to my previous suggestion for dessert." 

"He  _ is _ more of a dessert person," Crowley mused in agreement.  

"O-oh my," Aziraphale murmured, his cheeks becoming hot enough he was worried he would light up like a furnace.  "I'm quite… flattered by your comment," he said, although he squirmed in his seat rather noticeably. He's always been good with affection—he was an angel!  It was in his nature to be loving. But  _ this  _ was something else entirely.  

"Dessert at my place then?" you asked, finally looking up at the poor flustered angel across the table.  Crowley was shaking his head, although this time, he was smiling ever so faintly. 

"Well, I, uh—"

"Say yes," Crowley groaned, "for the love of God," he stopped momentarily to make a face and swallow rather thickly, "please just say yes and end my suffering."

"Yes," Aziraphale exclaimed, a rush of excitement flowing through him.  "But, I uh," he pulled at his vest nervously, "I am uh,  _ off the menu, _ " he mumbled rather sheepishly.

"For now," you replied, sending him a teasing wink.

"Oh Hell," Crowley groaned rolling his eyes.  "I'm the demon here and I'm begging you to keep it clean."

Aziraphale smiled coyly.  "As [y/n] said," he leaned closer to the table, his face still glowing pink, " _ for now."   _ He chuckled to himself, quite pleased by his performance.

"Look what you've done to him.  It took you 20 minutes to corrupt him and I've failed for the last 6,000 years," Crowley said, throwing his hands up in defeat.

"It's not my fault I'm a better demon than you," you replied, sharing a teasing look with Aziraphale.  It seemed you had a few 200 some years that you had lost out on with the peculiar angel, and you were finally intent on making them up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to req stuff too uwu


	4. revealing their origins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for dancinginthisworldalone! they req the boys revealing they are an angel/demon and the reader brushes them off. i couldn't decide which to choose so i did two mini ones!

**Crowley:**

“Listen…, [y/n],” Crowley started, anxiously rubbing the back of his neck.  “I feel I owe it to you, after all we’ve, uh, been through.” Heartfelt conversations physically pained Crowley, and he made sure everyone knew it.

“Yes?” you said, smiling.  You didn’t want to discourage him when he was finally opening up.

“Well, you see.  I’m a… demon.” Crowley smiled.  It was an awkward smile, but a smile nonetheless.  No smirk, no grin, just a terribly awkward smile.

You began laughing.  “Here I thought you were going to be serious!”  You clapped him on the back. “I know I complain that you can be devil spawn sometimes but you’re not  _ always  _ that bad.”

“No, I—,” Crowley started, but found his words to be falling.  “I really am—” He took off his glasses. “See! Demon eyes!” Yellow snake eyes blinked back at you.

“Oh shit, those are cool, where’d you get them?” you stared into his eyes, mesmerized by how real they looked.  

“Lucifer,” Crowley replied.  He was vaguely tempted to transform into some scary beast but he wanted you to believe him, not be terrified of him.

“You’re a real piece of work,” you said through giggles, “you know that?”

“Oh yeah,” Crowley grumbled, “ _ I’m _ the piece of work.”

 

**Aziraphale:**

“[y/n], my dear, I have got something I wish to tell you.  It’s… personal to me.”

You turned to Aziraphale.  You have never seen him this anxious to talk to you.  “Of course, Aziraphale, what is it?”

“Ah, well, you see…,” Aziraphale rung his hands together nervously.  “I suppose it’s best for me to just say it: I’m an angel!”

You stared at Aziraphale for a second, confusion washing over your face.  You could see him growing more anxious by the second.

“An angel?” you repeated.

“Yes.”  Aziraphale smiled.  “That’s me!” he exclaimed, bouncing happily. 

“Of course you are,” you agreed.  “You’re so sweet and cute, I couldn’t imagine any other way to describe you!”  You gave his arm a gentle, loving squeeze. 

“No, I, uh, don’t think you understand,” Aziraphale stumbled with his words.  “Although, I do appreciate the sentiment.”

“Nah, I totally get it!” you beamed.  “You’ve been feeling a little under appreciated, especially with Crowley’s shenanigans—”  You rolled your eyes. If Aziraphale was an angel, Crowley was certainly a demon. “But I know how much you try,” you cooed, “and you are  _ definitely  _ an angel in my eyes.” 

Aziraphale sighed.  Perhaps he should consider this a small victory and move on.


	5. new meetings pt. two (aziraphale slight nsfw)

Aziraphale’s bookshop was cozy.  It felt like a home, despite the front end of the shop holding only books.  You had noticed how Crowley had grown so fond of the place (which you could understand why, after he gave you an all too vivid description of Hell).  It didn’t take long for you to come to love the place, as well, especially after having a few more private dinner dates there after hours. Currently, the angel was showing you around the other half of his bookshop, the part that was his actual home, although, “ _ showing you around _ ” was a loose term.  

“Thought you said angel was off the menu?” you teased, pushing Aziraphale against the door that separated his living space from the bookshop.  He let out a surprised noise, his hands hovering just above your hips. 

“Yes, well,” he moved his neck when you began kissing underneath his jawline, “that was then.”  He finally placed his hands on your hips and you shifted so your thigh was pressed between his legs, keeping them spread.  

“And this is now?” you asked, before gently nipping at his neck.  

“E-exactly,” he stammered, swallowing thickly.  

The feeling of your lips against his skin was enough to make his stomach flip and his knees weak.  Your fingers played with the hem of his vest, tugging at the material every so often to pull him closer.  Aziraphale absolutely  _ adored  _ the attention you were giving him and he was making it clearly known through the soft gasps and moans he made with your every touch.  He was rather cute like this; needy and flustered. You ground your hips against his clothed erection and hiked your thigh up that was between his legs, smiling against his hot skin when he let out a startled whine.  

As you continued to leave little love bites down his neck, your fingers worked to undo the buttons of his vest.  His overcoat had already been long discarded, but he was still wearing too many layers for your liking. It didn’t take long for Aziraphale to shrug off his vest eagerly and begin to loosen his bow tie.  Barely waiting long enough for his hands to move out of the way, you continued your onslaught of kisses and soft bites down to his collarbone. 

His hands bumped against your side, slowly shifting down to rest at your hips once again.  It was clear he felt unsure of his movements, and you suspected he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries.  

“You see,” he began, his hold on your waist tightening nervously, “I do feel the need to apologize in advance; this isn’t exactly…”

“Your specialty?” you finished, pulling away from him and wrapping one arm around his midsection.  With your free hand, you trailed your fingers up his chest, drawing patterns onto his skin as you went.  Aziraphale shivered at the contact, as faint and innocent as it was. “I get it—you’re an angel.” You moved your hand up to cup his cheek affectionately.  “I’m sure you had a whole lotta rules about this sort of stuff.” You flashed your companion a teasing smile. “Let me teach you all my  _ devilish  _ ways.”

Aziraphale beamed at you.  It was hard trying to remain suave and cheeky when you were getting handsy with an angel that was as sweet as sugar.  He made you  _ soft _ , softer than you’d care to admit.

“I am all yours, [y/n],” Aziraphale replied, taking the initiative to give you a far too innocent kiss.

“Oh, I know,” you mumbled in return, your words ghosting over his lips.  You had every intention of making him  _ yours  _ tonight.  


	6. preening (crowley)

“Hey… [y/n],” Crowley asked, laying ( _ lounging _ was a better word) on your bed.  For about an hour, he had been laying there, tossing and turning and, every so often, he wiggled uncomfortably and contorted his face in displeasure.  The demonic drama queen wished for all eyes (in this case, just yours) to be aware of his disgruntled presence. 

“What is it, love bug?”  You, on the other hand, had been determined to remain busy on the lazy weekend: you were trying to tidy up your room around Crowley’s dramatics, and you were succeeding, up until this point, however. 

Crowley grumbled at the pet name.  He could  _ never  _ admit it aloud, but he quite enjoyed the affectionate names you gave him.  It made him feel all sorts of  _ feelings _ that were positively non-demonic, which he had been conditioned to reject, hence the grumbling.   _ But _ , he could use pet names on you; it was “ _ cool”  _ when he did it.  

“Mind if I stretch my wings a bit?” he asked, sitting up.  Yet, he didn’t wait for a response. A set of large, black wings erupted from his shoulder blades.  Crowley was mindful of your possessions—he knew how easy it was to accidentally knock things over if he wasn’t paying attention.  He gave you a smile when he noticed the unamused expression you were giving him and shook out his wings. 

“You know I don’t mind it, so I have a feeling that’s not what you wanted to ask,” you stated, walking up to him and lightly resting your hand on the top of his wingspan.  It wasn’t the first time you have seen his wings, but you had a feeling seeing them would never get old. Not that a demon having wings was odd, per say, it was actually seeing them out in the open.

“Oh, it’s not, is it?” Crowley teased.  “You think you know me that well?” His forked tongue slithered out between his lips as to mock you, but you've been around the demon long enough to not give in to his playful harassing.

“Oh, sweetheart, I do,” you cooed, lightly running your fingers over the base of his feathers.  “Oh!” you exclaimed, taking a closer look at his wings. “You’ve got  _ pins  _ all over, love!”  You took the little pin between your finger and began to gently work at it.  Crowley let out a deep sigh and his shoulders fell forward. 

“They’ve been driving me nuts all week,” he admitted, his wings spreading slightly as you smoothed out the pins.  

“You’re such a dork.”  Laughing to yourself, you teasingly pinched Crowley’s cheek before he swatted your hand away.  “Did you want me to  _ preen  _ you?” you teased.

“Stop that,” he grumbled, pushing your hand away from his face.  The shoulder of his wing pushed you when you kept trying to either pinch his cheeks or ruffle his hair.  Another way he can push you around,  _ great _ , you thought.  Although, considering you were bugging him for the sole sake of getting on his nerves, you supposed you deserved it.  

“That would be nice, though,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

“Really?” you questioned.  You hadn’t expected him to acknowledge your question, let alone agree to it.

They get pretty uncomfortable,” he explained, “and some of it is hard for me to fix myself.”  Crowley ruffled his feathers. “Usually, angels have someone who they trust or they are bonded with to help them."  Crowley gave an amused laugh. “Demons, weeell…,” he opened his arms, “show that kind of weakness and…” He made a crude gesture and you got the picture.

“Well, I am flattered, darling, really.”  You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek.  Despite his grumbling, you could feel his cheeks turn up as he smiled ever so slightly.  He thought he was being sneaky, but you knew him better than that. “I’d be happy to help.  But you have to scoot,” you said, tapping his lower back, “you’re hogging literally the entire bed.”

“I  _ suppose _ .”  Crowley dramatically sighed and moved to the edge of the bed, maneuvering his wings around you.  

Laughing at his dramatics, you kneeled down on the bed behind him, taking a curious peek at his shoulder blades.  His wings seemed to have formed right through the material. 

“Hey Crowley?” you asked, pressing your finger to the material of his shirt.  “How does this… uh work?”

“Huh?”  He looked over his shoulder.  “Oh, all demonic magic, baby.”  He grinned and spread his wings out as far as he could.  “Same way I’m able to conceal my wings all the time.” Crowley pulled his shirt over his head, right through his wings.  He waved his hand, dismissing it. “Don’t think about it too much, doesn’t make much sense to anyone.” 

“I— _ okay, _ ” you replied.  Best not to question it, you agreed.

“Do you mind starting at the base of my wings?  Near the shoulder blades?” He asked, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.  

“Of course.”  

You began to work the small feathers where his wings were attached to his back.  The joining of bird wings and a human back looked rather uncomfortable, but Crowley didn’t seem to be in any discomfort as you ran your fingers over the skin and through the feathers: it was the opposite, actually.  He was sighing softly, quite relaxed. It dawned on you that he trusted you enough to be this vulnerable in your presence.

“Hey, pumpkin…,” you started after a few minutes.  You reached around Crowley’s neck to show him your fingers.  “What… is that?”

“Oh, uh,” Crowley laughed nervously, “preening oil.  Sorry, probably should’ve mentioned  _ that _ .  It helps keep my feathers nice and pretty for you,” he teased.  

"It's not working," you tutted, going back to smoothing out his feathers and working out the pins.  The oil on your fingers was faint—not quite enough to be clearly seen, but enough to be felt. You had started to notice your fingers glided through his delicate feathers easier, though.  "Your wings are awfully messy." 

"They don't get out much," Crowley replied pointedly.  "Leave 'em alone."

You snorted in reply, but otherwise kept your mouth shut.  Peaceful silence settled over the two of you as you worked your way across his wingspan, preening and rearranging his soft, black feathers.  Occasionally, you were able to dislodge old, gnarled, loose feathers, letting them fall to the floor. By the end of his first wing, your floor was littered with little black fluff and feathers.

"Ooooh, I love you," he cooed when you began to work on his other wing.  He stretched his preened wing, ruffling it gently. "Your fingers feel  _ amazing."  _

"I can tell," you hummed in agreement, " you've been practically moaning the entire time."

"Can you blame me?" he asked, shooting you a teasing grin.  "You've always had the  _ best  _ hands."

You paused your preening to run your hands up his back, resting on his neck.  "You might've mentioned it before, love," you replied, kissing just under his jawline.  "I'm quite enjoying it myself 'cause I've never seen you this soft."

"That's 'cause I'm  _ not  _ soft," he nearly whined.  "I'm a demon from Hell and I have the power to corrupt lives to eternal damnation!" 

"A little demon who turns to mush while a  _ human  _ cleans their wings," you teased, snaking your hands around his waist.  "You're  _ truly  _ terrifying, love bug." 

"Oh, shut it," your big, scary demon boyfriend replied, resting his hands on top of yours affectionately—he was right: he's an absolute _ terror.   _

"Love you," you cooed, punctuating your words with little kisses along his neck.

Crowley gently squeezed your hand.  It was what he normally did, instead of saying the words aloud—he'd  _ show _ you.  But, tonight, he rather surprised you.

"Love you, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wing fics were my SHIT when i was into spn so naturally here we are


	7. in the moment (crowley)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> req from tumblr

Crowley didn’t care much for sports, anymore.  Six thousand years of sports had a way of getting, well,  _ old _ .  It wasn’t that he didn’t like them, he did, truly: he even had his hand to play in the first Olympic games, back when athletic nudity was the standard and no-holds barred Pankration was all the rage.  

Aziraphale, on the other hand, had a different love affair for sports.  He never fancied the brutal sports of the Ancient Greeks and Romans, and their rather indifference to human and animal safety.  This did nothing to deter his admiration for the athletes and their prowess, he simply wanted to be left out of spectating. And, while he still didn’t fancy modern sports, he did find himself watching and enjoying more than his demonic counterpart.

Despite their respective feelings, here they sat together to watch the town’s ameuter hockey game.  They didn’t care for the sport—they cared for the players… or  _ player  _ in this instance.  Aziraphale, not knowing what to expect, was rather bundled in a sweater and a bobble hat with the league’s logo stitched on the front, a gift from you.  Crowley was in his regular attire, with the addition of a league scarf around his shoulders (another thing that was your doing). 

The first twenty minutes of the game was filled with the cheers and shouts from the demon and angel pair, although, most of it could be contributed to Crowley.  He also had quite a filthy mouth, when it came to trashing anyone  _ but  _ you.  Aziraphale had to pull him back to his seat on a few occasions.  The poor angel was too pent up with worry over your safety to have to dwell on the little ball of fury beside him.  

“Will you  _ please  _ stop that?” Aziraphale pleaded, tugging on Crowley’s arm for the umpteenth time.  “People are giving you dirty looks.” He held onto Crowley’s arm to make sure he would not spontaneously try to leap up and threaten opposing players with “thousands of years of torment in Hell.”

“Whatever,” Crowley replied.  “But if that tosser comes near [y/n] again—”

“ _ Crowley _ ,” Aziraphale tutted, “part of the game is being near the other player.”

Crowley leaned back in his seat.  He knew you could take care of yourself, but the fast paced nature of the game was getting the best of him, as everyone around him could tell.  

Aziraphale was able to calm down; Crowley remained seated and relatively quiet for the next ten minutes or so.  He had to squeeze the demon’s arm every so often when he was worried Crowley would start shouting again. And so, the game continued to pass without incident and both parties were enjoying themselves supporting their favorite hockey player.

As they neared the sixty minute mark, it was clear tensions were rising in the rink.  A few minor penalties had been called on both sides at this point, and a player from your team had just stepped back onto the ice after a penalty for spearing.  Both sides were tired and sore and  _ irritable _ .  

Humans, went in such a state, did  _ questionable  _ things.  Crowley and Aziraphale saw it coming from a mile away.  What they didn’t see was you getting in the middle of it, however.

One of the players from the opposing team used their body to check you into the boards and a loud clanging sound echoed throughout the rink.  A whistle was blown, but most of the players weren’t listening. A couple of your teammates rushed the one that checked you and a small fight broke out.  You were screaming (in pain or anger, the crowd couldn’t tell) and a few of the players were trying to get you to your feet. The rest of the players were either trying to break up the fight or stayed out of it entirely. 

Crowley and Aziraphale sprung to their feet.  Faster than react than his counterpart, Crowley was running down the steps as your teammates were ushering you off of the ice.  Another scream echoes throughout the rink and the one that had checked you was laying on the ice in pain, the surrounding players confused as to who had hurt them.  Aziraphale sighed and waved his hand and the player stopped screaming in pain. He ran down the steps after Crowley.

“Get your hands off of them,” Crowley neared growled as he marched up to you.  Your teammates gave each other worried glances, afraid another fight was going to break out.

“It’s fine,” you reassured, trying not to show just how much pain you were in.  Your shoulder hung at an awkward angle, out of its socket. It looked worse than it felt; but that being said, it felt awful.  

“Come here,” Crowley said, opening his arms and completely encapsulating you in his arms.  You winced, preparing yourself for the pain, but it never came. It was the exact opposite, actually.  A flush of warmth passed over your shoulder as it shifted back into place. “You didn’t think I’d hurt you, did you?” he murmured, uncharacteristically soft.  He sounded quite  _ hurt _ , actually.

“No,” you replied, wrapping your arms around him.  “Thank you.” 

Crowley held you tight, running his fingers through your hair to try and make you feel better (maybe it was to help him feel better, too).  Crowley noticed Aziraphale standing off to the side after a moment, giving him a knowing look.

“How is your shoulder, dear?” the angel asked after letting Crowley have his moment.

“Fine,” you said, pulling away from Crowley.  “Crowley fixed me up.” You rolled your shoulder and—maybe it was just your imagination—but it felt better than it did before.  “That  _ whore  _ that checked me has another thing coming, though,” you said through gritted teeth.  The thought of another player coming at you solely to stir up a fight made your blood bloi, especially since the game was almost over (and won).

“Took care of that, too,” Crowley stated with pride, letting his arm rest around your waist.

Aziraphale looked between the two of you.  “No, you didn’t,” he said, despite his nerves.  “I fixed them just after your little stunt.  _ Not nice _ ,” he said pointedly.

“Boo!”  You pouted, glaring across the rink to where the opposing player was frantically checking their body for the injuries that seemed to disappear as quickly as they showed up.

“Yeah, boo, angel,” Crowley grumbled.  “ _ I _ could cause some real fun.”  

“I am glad you are okay, [y/n],” Aziraphale said with a pleasant smile, “and you played  _ wonderfully _ , but I do think it is time for us to wait in the Bentley while the rest of the game is sorted out.  I fear for some of the player’s safety.” Aziraphale sent a not so subtle look at the demon.

“Me?” Crowley asked, feigning shock.  “I am a dealer of justice, nothing more.”  You laughed and Crowley smiled. He loved hearing your laugh, especially when you sounded ready to cry a few minutes ago.  

“Okay, Mr. Justice,” you said, giving him a quick kiss, “Aziraphale may be right.  Shouldn’t take too long, anyhow, the game was nearly done anyhow.”

“Alright,” he grumbled.  “Another kiss for luck, though.”  He gave you another peck on the lips.  “I am glad you’re okay,” he murmured, low enough for just you to hear.  “I’ll always protect you.” Pulling back, as if nothing happened, he stated: “Kick ass, [y/n].”

“But not literally!” Aziraphale quickly added.

“Weeell…”

“Oh,  _ please _ .”


	8. thief! (aziraphale)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> req from tumblr

Huddled on Aziraphale’s bed, you held a book up in front of your face.  You weren’t reading it, no, you were merely using it as a cover while your eyes followed the angel as he huffed around the room.  

“What’s wrong with you?” you finally asked, although you kept the book up to your face.

**“Where are all my jumpers?**  I seem to be missing all of them. Every single one!”  Aziraphale threw his hands into the air. “What are the odds of that happening?”  He marched back over to his closet to rummage through the clothes again hoping, just maybe, he somehow missed something the past ten times he’s already looked.

“That’s odd,” you agreed, knowing full well where all of his jumpers were.  A few were in your closet, some were in your wash, and one was already being worn by you (you even have a vague memory of seeing on in the Bentley, but you weren’t positive.  “Maybe they are in the wash?”

“I don’t remember putting any in the wash, though…,” he said, his head still in the closet.  “Wait just one minute!” he suddenly exclaimed, marching over to the edge of the bed. You pulled the sheets closer around you.

“Yes?” you asked.  

“Is that  _ my  _ jumper?” he asked, mirroring your overly pleasant and innocent tone.

“ _ Maaaaybe _ .”

“You little devil,” Aziraphale scolded, sitting down on the bed next to you.  “I’ve been searching for  _ hours _ .”

“It’s been ten minutes, love, and I couldn’t help myself!”  You pushed the bed sheets away from you and showed off Aziraphale’s jumper.  “It’s so warm and comfy!”

“I  _ know _ ; it’s why I like them so much,” Aziraphale responded.  He put his hand on your arm and drew circles with his thumb.  “I suppose I can’t complain, you look quite cute in my clothes.”  

“Good thing,” you said, leaning forward and placing your hands on the angel’s knees, “cause I think I might have  _ at least _ five more pairs at my place.”

“ _ [y/n] _ ,” Aziraphale scolded, “you truly are something else.”

“I am,” you agreed, “but you love me.”

“That I do.”  Aziraphale smiled fondly and gave you a quick kiss.  “Since you’re the culprit behind this thievery, perhaps you could help me find something to wear?”

“I can manage that,” you replied, stealing another quick kiss.  “Can’t promise I won’t snag something else though.”

 


	9. starved (crowley)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> req from tumblr

“What a day,” you said with a sigh, collapsing back onto the bed.  You sprawled out on the bed, letting yourself get comfortable. “I don’t know what it is, but it seems like all the idiots come out around three p.m.-ish.”

“Maaay be my fault,” Crowley admitted, sitting down on the bed next to you.  You noticed he was sitting closer to you than usual.  

“You can magically make people bitchy simultaneously?” you asked, sitting up in bed.  It would explain so much.  

“Pft, no, I’m joking,” Crowley said, extending his legs to lay over your own.  “I’m good but I’m not  _ that  _ good.”

“This is why Hell thought you were some genius.”  Although, you wouldn’t put it past him to have done something to simultaneously piss off London, like the little stunt with cell service.  

“ _ Oh no _ !” Crowley gasped.  “A demon? Stretching the truth?   _ Please _ , [y/n].”  Crowley grinned with pride, scooting slightly closer to you.

  
“Okay, what’s up with you?” you asked, still smiling from his antics.  “It seems to me like you would like to cuddle?”

“Who me?”  Crowley scoffed.  “Noooo…”

“Uh huh.”  You weren’t convinced.  Crowley usually doesn’t seem this eager to get closer to you.  “Then why are you practically in my lap?”

“I’m not!” Crowley exclaimed, dramatically motioning to the gap between the two of you.

“Whatever you say, ya big baby.”  You held open your arms. “Come here.”  Without any extra convincing, Crowley fell into your arms, you know, like someone who  _ doesn’t  _ want to cuddle.  

  
“This means nothing,” Crowley grumbled into your chest. 

“Sure,” you hummed, rubbing a circular pattern onto his back.  You could feel his muscles slowly relaxing beneath your fingers.  “You know you love this.” Softly, you ran your nails down his back and the demon shivered.

“I love it from  _ you _ ; there’s a difference.”  He shifted, turning over and resting his cheek on your stomach.  “Can you do the thing?” Crowley asked, looking up at you. “Yanno, the thing I like?”

Without answering, you started to run your fingers through Crowley’s hair.  He closed his eyes and smiled. It was nice seeing him like this: soft, happy, and vulnerable.  It made you feel happy he trusted you enough to show you this side.  

“You know,” you started, playing with his hair, “you can always just  _ ask  _ instead of trying to inch closer and closer to me until I magically read your mind.”

“But you’re so good at it, darling,” he teased.  His eyes were still closed and you were honestly surprised he wasn’t purring he looked so content.  With your free hand, you grabbed his hand and interlocked your fingers.

“I know I am, because I’ve had to deal with  _ you  _ for so long.”

Crowley opened one eye, frowning.  “Ouch.”

  
You pressed a kiss to Crowley’s forehead.  “Baby.” He grumbled in response, but there were no further complaints from him.  While he was being pampered with love and affection, it was hard for him to complain, anyway.


	10. little accident (crowley)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey yall here comes a little spam

“Hold still,” you scolded, holding Crowley’s head in your hand.  He grumbled something you couldn’t make out, but remained still. 

“You aren’t exactly being gentle,” he said, louder.  “It hurts.”

“Poor baby,” you cooed, kissing his forehead.  He hissed in pain and stuck his forked tongue out.  “Sorry,” you muttered. “I wasn’t the one who smashed a vase over your head, though.”  You went back to picking the glass bits out of his hair. There were a few cuts on his face (and a growing bump), which you had already cleaned, but there were still a few shards of glass hiding in his hair.

“I didn’t smash it over my head, either!”  Crowley, as dramatic as always, began to pout.  You wondered if he was hoping his pouting would earn him more affection from you.  Just this once, he was right. “It  _ fell _ .”

“I know,” you cooed and ruffled his hair one last time for good measure before kissing the top of his head.  You loosely wrapped your arms around his neck and rested your chin on his shoulder. “The bump on your head is growing.  Looks like you’re gonna sprout a horn.” 

Crowley barked out a laugh.  “It’s only fitting.” He spread his arms.  “I am a demon, darling.”   
“A demon who shattered a glass vase of his thick skull ‘cause he wanted to pot a new plant…,” you nodded seriously, “yes.  It’s _very_ fitting to your _scary_ demon persona.”

“Is this okay?” he whined, leaning back into you.  “Is it okay that you are mocking me while I’m injured and defenseless?  It doesn't seem okay to me.”

“Quit your moaning,” you said with a laugh.  You pressed a kiss to his cheek again. “Gotta keep my demon on his toes, can’t let you go and get soft, now can I?”

“No, you can’t,” he mumbled.  

No, he couldn’t get soft,  _ but  _ he did want to ask for another kiss.  Not in a soft way, though. In a scary, ruler of Hell kind of way.  It would only be fair after the brutal torment he just went through, and so he asked.  And his request was greatly met.  


	11. perspective (azirphale)

Standing in front of the mirror, you were currently in battle with your worst enemy:  _ pants _ .  Tight and uncomfortable, they proved to cause a fight with you almost every morning, but this morning was worse.  It seemed your pants (which, to make things even more difficult, they were  _ not  _ stretchy) were finally winning the battle.  The waist was stuck on the widest part of your thighs.  With just the right amount of wiggling and hopping, there might have been a chance to slip into them, but you were at your breaking point.  

Kicking the pants off rather violently, you hurled them across the floor where they fell into a pile and stared back at you menacingly, like the dump clump of fabric knew today that it had won.  

“Darling?” Aziraphale called, poking his head around the corner.  Your little outburst had not gone unnoticed in the rather confined living space.  “What’s wrong?” His eyes darted down to your bare legs. “No pants today?” He smiled, but his joke wasn’t received with a laugh today.

“No,” you snapped.  “Stupid thing doesn’t fit anymore, nothing does.”  You marched over to the bed and collapsed on it. Everything was  _ fine _ , you just wouldn’t wear pants.  Ever. Or clothes at all, for that matter.  

“We can get you new things,” Aziraphale offered innocently, taking a seat on the bed next to you.  He laid a hand on your thigh and smiled down at you kindly.  

“I don’t  _ want  _ new things.”  You couldn’t be mad at Aziraphale over this, especially when he gave you that  _ soft  _ look.  “I want my old things to fit.  A few months ago, they did, but now I’m  _ fat  _ and  _ everyone  _ notices and has all their little comments,” you sneered.  “And I can’t even exercise like I used to, anymore. It’s  _ awful _ .” 

“Oh, you stop that this instant,” Aziraphale scolded.  “There’s nothing wrong with adding on extra weight. You can’t do anything about your injury now, so don’t make yourself feel bad for it.”  He patted your thigh reassuringly. “As long as you stay healthy, I certainly have no complaints. Your quite cuddly recently.”

“I wasn’t cuddly before?”

“Don’t be silly, of course you were!  You’re just  _ extra  _ cuddly, now.”  Aziraphale opened his arms.  “Come here, love.”

With a groan, you pulled yourself off of the bed and fell into the angel’s arms.  His hugs were just as soft and warm as he was; it was no wonder why they always made you feel better.  

“People still make comments about me.  They’ve seen the change, too,” you mumbled into Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“People will make all sorts of comments about anything they can.”  Aziraphale began to rub circles on your back. “If they want to look down on you for something as trivial about your weight, that is their problem, not yours.  All you can do is worry about yourself: you will never be able to control what others think of you. Don’t let others control how you think of yourself.” Aziraphale kissed your cheek.  

“Thank you, angel,” you mumbled.  You didn’t want to let Aziraphale go, but you also knew you couldn’t hang off of him all day.  So, begrudgingly, you released him from your hug.  

“I  _ do  _ think we should get you new pants, though,” Aziraphale commented.  “As flattering as this look is,” he motioned to your pantless state, “I think you need clothes that fit.  It might help you feel better, too.” 

“I guess,” you admitted.  “ _ But _ , I am burning those things.”  You pointed to the pants in the corner.  

“Whatever you wish, my dear,” Aziraphale said with a small chuckle.  


	12. swedish savages (azirphale)

“Home sweet… home?” you exclaimed, your words get stuck in your throat at the end.  You looked out to your new place: your new place with Aziraphale. His place was nice… for  _ him _ .  Two people made the space a little  _ too  _ cozy.  

“It’s got potential!” Aziraphale exclaimed.  He was certainly optimistic for a space that was half empty.  Suddenly, you were homesick for the little room hidden away behind the bookshop.  “We can buy new furniture. Maybe get some art for the walls? Oh! Crowley was threatening to dispose of one of his plants the other day,” Aziraphale made a face, “maybe we could take the poor little thing off of his hands?”

“Yeah, maybe.  But I’m  **never buying Ikea furniture again** .”  You crossed your arms.  There were definitely things you needed to buy to make this place feel like home, but not from  _ that  _ hellscape.  

“It wasn’t  _ that  _ bad, darling,” Aziraphale replied, although he was getting strangely nervous thinking about it.  

“But it  _ was _ .  Those people— **they’re monsters!** No one works there by choice.”  A lightbulb went off. “You know what…,” you dramatically walked over to Aziraphale, leaning in close.  “I bet all of Ikea was Crowley’s doing.” The angel tsked and waved the idea off with his hand. “Think about it!  Giant, chaotic store you can easily get lost in, where people have died in? Got that demon’s name written all over it.”  You nodded, thoroughly convinced with your own idea. 

“As much as I’d like to disagree, you might have a point.”  Aziraphale mulled the situation over in his head. It did fit the demon’s  _ odd  _ style.  

“And the Ikea monkey?” you added.  “I  _ bet  _ you that was actually Crowley.”

“Darling, he’s a snake, not a monkey.”

“But he  _ could  _ be.”

Aziraphale looked stumped.  “Nevermind that.” He shook his head.  “What about the furniture?”

“I’m sure there are local places we can visit.  As long as we have a bed and bathroom, it’s fine with me, for now at least.  You’re the most important part of making this,” you motioned around you, “ _ home _ , so we aren’t in a hurry.”

“[y/n]...,” Aziraphale engulfed you in a tight hug.  “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you said with a chuckle.  “And we are going to Crowley’s place to see if we can mooch some plants from him.  And to see if he’s ever been a monkey.”


	13. nsfw headcanons

Crowley: 

  * he switches between being dominant and submissive, depending on his mood and what he wants to get out of it
  * when he's the dominant one, he makes it clear he's in charge.  he's bossy and demanding and expects his partner to follow his instructions (and if they don't he'll find suitable ways to punish them) 
  * he actually likes a bratty partner, he thinks it's more fun: he loves the mutual teasing and banter 
  * being in charge definitely isn't a kink, though, that being said.  it's just a side of his natural personality and he's never mean about it (although he can be ruthless when it comes to teasing) 
  * he is ALL hands.  he wants to feel every bit of his partner's skin
  * he's very touch oriented in general, actually  he's not one for words during sex, so he makes things clear through physical actions 
  * love bites are his _thing_ he loves lovebites he loves being a sneaky little shit and leave little marks across his partner's skin and play all innocent when they point the marks out
  * sometimes though, he wants to be the submissive one.  he wants to be completely pampered and spoiled with love and affection
  * the feeling of his partners lips on his skin makes him _melt_ he loves the warmth and _feeling_ behind it, especially because he comes from a place that is determined to crush any amount of love or affection 
  * handcuffs (or physical restraints) are fun, too, for him.  he has no preference of them on his partner, but tie him up and edge him along and he'll love it
  * he's a tad bit of a voyeur and will def tease his partner in public, but he usually prefers to have sex in a more private place
  * sex in his bentley?  yes. sex _on_ his bentley?  also a yes
  * not about his preferences but picture his messy sex hair.  just picture it, you'll thank me later 
  * he has a thing for having sex in literally any place but the bed (not that he _won't_ have sex in bed, he just usually finds some way to fuck his partner against the wall, the counter, his desk, etc) 



 

Aziraphale: 

  * this little bitch is spoiled ROTTEN and he knows it
  * he's very good at getting what he wants and he knows just what to do to _you_ to get you to give him what he wants
  * huge praise kink, both ways: he will constantly be telling you how good you are doing and he loves being told how amazing he is
  * loves being absolutely pampered during sex, loves when it's all about him.  that's not to say he puts aside his partner's needs, not by a long shot. but he definitely likes being the center of your attention
  * he's pretty gentle and refuses to indulge in any rougher kinks (like spanking)
  * at  first, he doesn't really know quite what to do with his hands and where to keep them, but eventually he realized he just.  always wants to be touching you in some way; he needs that contact
  * normally, he is a very sensual and romantic lover; he likes sex slow and intimate.  he wants to _make love_ not just "fuck".  but, every so often, he does get this fantasy of being laid across his desk, legs pushed into the air, and being absolutely _wrecked_ by you.  he doesn't get this need very often, but when he does… well, like I said, he gets what he wants
  * he isn't a very sexual person by nature, he's not opposed to it (he quite enjoys it), it's just not really a need of his
  * aftercare is important.  he enjoys laying with you and basking in the afterglow just as much as the sex itself
  * wing kink wing kink tug on those feather 
  * he's kind of a goofy romantic.  he'll set out roses and candles beforehand and it's cute and he's a _giant_ dork 
  * not really nsfw but he has heart underwear ok
  * mark him UP he wants everyone to know he's yours and he's quite coy about "accidentally" leaving them in plain sight




	14. needy (nsfw crowley)

The day was  _ meant  _ to be lazy.  Lounging around in your comfy old shirts without a care in the world.  You also had a lot of pampering in mind, too: kissing your grouchy demonic boyfriend, for starters, was at the top of that list. 

Things got a tad out of hand in that aspect (not that there was any problem with that).

Crowley set you down on his desk, his lips never leaving yours.  He placed his hands on either side of your waist, trapping you in, and you wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling yourself flush against his clothed erection. 

“Excited?” he teased, placing open mouthed kisses across your jawline up to your ear where he lightly tugged on your earlobe.  “You’re so needy.”

“Demanding,” you corrected, tugging at his shirt.  He got your message and pulled it off. “And you love it, don’t deny it.”  

“No denying here,” he mused, nipping at your skin.  

“Hey, you little devil, that hurts,” you scolded, guiding his head away from your neck with your hand.  

“That’s the point,” he teased with a shit-eatting grin.  You leaned forward and kissed his lips, feeling his hands snake up under your shirt.  

His one hand rolled your nipple between his fingertips, the other gliding over your skin as if he were trying to map your body.  Before he could go any further, you placed a hand on his chest, nudging him away.  

“Sit,” you commanded, unlinking your legs from his waist and pushing him back onto his ridiculous throne.  

Crowley fell back into the chair and watched with hungry eyes as you pulled your top of over your head.  He was sitting as he normally did, with his legs spread as if that made him look  _ cool _ .  Regardless of how it made him look, it gave you a nice spot to sit between his legs at this point in time.

“I,” you started undoing your belt, “am going to use you any way I like tonight,” you declared rather matter-of-factly, using your belt to tie his one wrist to the throne’s armrest.  You undid Crowley’s belt and used it to secure his other wrist.  

“ _ Use me? _ ” Crowley repeated with a laugh.  For a brief moment, his forked tongue flicked out, almost as if daring you to test him.  You accepted the challenge and put your finger to his lips.  

“Keep talking like that and I’ve got a… different set of plans in mind for you.  Punishments, actually.” You smiled and kissed him softly before whispering, “I’ll use you for  _ my  _ benefit and edge you with no release if you want to be a brat.”  

Crowley’s breath hitched and he struggled against the belts for a moment.  Part of him wanted to remind you he’s  _ the  _ brat, just to see your punishment for him, but he decided to bite his tongue.  

“That’s what I thought,” you said when you were met with Crowley’s silence.  

Getting down on your knees, you tugged on Crowley’s pants until they were past his thighs and yanked them off, discarding them to wherever your shirts had gone.  With a single finger, you traced the outline of his cock through his underwear, fully enjoying all the grunts and gasps the demon was making from such a soft little touch.  Doing away with his underwear, as well, you grabbed the base of his length rather roughly, giving it a few pumps before taking the tip in your mouth.  

Crowley couldn’t manage to keep his hips still while your hot mouth glided up and down his dick, your hand still wrapped tightly around the base.  Sweat was forming on his chest, and it was driving him  _ nuts  _ not being able to touch you.  Your free hand clamped down on his hips, pushing him back against the cold throne, your nails digging into his skin.  

Your teeth grazed the length of his cock as you slowly pulled away, the tip leaving your lips with a small  _ pop _ .  Crowley let out a small moan of disapproval and his hips tried to buck towards you, but your hand kept him in place.  

“The sounds you are making are  _ amazing _ , love,” you cooed, lightly nipping his inner thigh.  “But you can’t have  _ all  _ the fun.”

“Let me touch you,” Crowley begged, tugging on his restraints.  “You know I can make you feel good.”

“I know,” you said, standing up and discarding your pants and underwear.  Backing up, you sat yourself down on the ledge of his desk and spread your legs wide.  “Not tonight, though. I want you to watch.”  

Crowley’s pupils widened as he watched your fingers slip between your folds, rubbing and tugging at the sensitive skin.  Your fingers rubbed circles around your clit, while your other hand played with your breasts. Crowley’s dick ached, leaking precum after his sudden loss of contact and the visual stimulation.  

“Darling, you look  _ so  _ good,” Crowley whined, bucking his hips.  “Please.”

“Please what?” you said, grinding against your own fingers.  You made a point of softly moaning and gasping for the demon.  “What do you need?”

“You’re killing me,” he admitted with a short laugh.  “You could make any angel fall with that sight, darling.  I need  _ you _ .”

You rolled your neck as your thighs tightened.  “A-almost,” you panted, purposely ignoring what he had said.  

Your hips continued to buck into your fingers as you stimulated your clit, riding out the waves to your climax.  Crowley groaned from his throne, growing uncomfortable from the lack of attention.  

“Since you asked so nice,” you began, pushing yourself off of the desk.  Your legs left weak. “I suppose I can give you what you want.”  

Practically falling onto his lap, you began to leave a trail of kisses down his neck and across his collarbone, occasionally leaving love bites in your wake.  Crowley ground his hips up into yours and you allowed it this time: you enjoyed seeing him so  _ needy  _ for you.  

After you were satisfied with the amounts of marks you left on him, you positioned yourself over his aching cock and lowered yourself onto him.  Crowley practically growled, a noise low and deep in his throat, hungry for you—your touch.  

You rode him hard and fast, not holding back after you spent so long teasing him.  Your insides burned; the overstimulation of not resting long enough after your last climax was intense and drove you wild.  

Crowley managed to capture your lips in a rough kiss when you moved close enough; he pushed his tongue between your lips in an attempt to gain back some amount of control.  His snake tongue was a different sensation in your mouth; it was foreign and odd, but  _ good _ .  You let out a soft moan into his mouth and his lips curled into the smallest of smirks.  

Your climax came fast and quick, still sensitive from earlier.  You continued to bounce on the demon’s cock despite the burning in your thighs until he came, which was not long after considering the show you gave him spurred him on.  

“Fuck,” he groaned under his breath, his head falling back against the throne.  “You’re amazing.”

“I know,” you agreed, slipping off of him as he became soft.  His hot cum leaked down your thigh from your throbbing sex and you began to undo his restraints.  “I’m going to take a shower, clean up. Join me?” you asked, placing a quick kiss to his lips before he could reply.  

“Always,” he responded, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you towards him once he was unrestricted.

“Hey!” you laughed, playfully pushing on the demon’s chest. 

“What did you expect?” he asked, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck.  “I couldn’t touch you that entire time, I need to make up for it.”

“Okay, Mr. Handsy, come on, let’s make it to the bathroom first.”

“No promises.”

 


End file.
